Every Single Thing (Reunion)
by RavenCurls
Summary: Fiyero always dreamed of reuniting with Elphaba. But it did not happen the way he wanted. AU from chapter 13 of Changing Fate. Short summary inside for those who did not read Changing Fate.


**A/N This is a AU from chapter 13 of Changing Fate. In Changing Fate, Fiyero and Elphaba were a couple in Shiz. Elphaba was preparing to visit the Wizard in Emerald City when she discovered that she was pregnant. She did not want Fiyero to marry her, and decided to run away instead, with the intention to visit the Wizard on her way to plead for the Animal Banns. But on that night, she started bleeding and lost conscious in her bathroom, where she was found by Fiyero and Galinda.**

**But what if she didn't bleed? What if she managed to go to the Emerald City and had that fateful meeting with the Wizard?**

Elphaba.

That was the first word that came to Fiyero when he woke up every day.

Elphaba Thropp.

Her face, the last thing on his mind before he fell asleep every night.

It had been almost six years since she had disappeared from his life. She just left, with a note slipped under his door in the middle of the night that did not explain anything. Left, without any hint of where she was going. Left, with their unborn child.

He had seen the guarded look in her eyes when he found her the day before. He should have known. But he did not. He had believed her when she told him that they would talk the next day. He thought that he was giving her the time she needed to think, to run some errands. He should have probed more about the errands that she was running. He should have hugged her one more time and told her that they would work it out together. He should have kissed her one more time and swore his undying love. But he did not. He believed her when she promised that they would talk. He trusted her.

And she had betrayed that trust.

He had no idea where to find her after she had disappeared. If not for the note, he would have thought that she had been abducted. But the note indicated otherwise. Galinda and him searched around Shiz, and then went around town looking for her. But they never found her.

A few days later, news slowly trickled out from the Emerald City. There was a new enemy of Oz. A witch with green skin had gone into the Wizard's Palace and committed a crime of enormous atrocity – she had casted a spell that cause wings to grow on the Wizard's monkeys. The evil witch then fled to the west on a broom.

They called her the Wicked Witch of the West.

Fiyero did not believe that of course. How could Elphaba be a wicked witch? Galinda did not believe that either, and Boq had his doubts. But they were the minority. The rest of the students, even Nessarose, believed that Elphaba had turned evil, that her belief in Animal rights had spurred her to turn against the Wizard, that her dabbling in sorcery had poisoned her mind. She was a terrorist, and it was best to deny any association with her.

Fiyero went to Emerald City and searched for her without success. After that he went back to Shiz. This was the place that they had met. This was the place that they had fallen in love. He believed that she would come back to Shiz, even if it was just in the middle of the night to see Galinda or him again.

He walked passed Galinda's room every day, hoping that one day he would hear her voice coming from the room. He sat outside the library every evening, wishing that it was all a nightmare and he would see her walked out with an armful of books when the library closed, just as before. He refused to sleep every night, afraid that she would come into his room when he was asleep and he would miss seeing her.

Within the year, the Wizard was overthrown by members of a Resistance movement. But it was not the end. Elphaba was no longer wanted by the new government, but the propaganda of the Wizard had brainwashed the people - she was still a witch in their heart. Fiyero scrapped though his finals and then moved to the Emerald City. In the city, he still heard the people blaming the 'Wicked Witch of the West' for everything. Farmers blamed the Witch whenever the harvests were dismal or the crops were destroyed. The shop owners blamed her when their goods were stolen. Parents scared their naughty children by telling them that the Wicked Witch would come and take them away at night if they did not behave. It was as if he had stepped into a world where the Elphaba Thropp whom he knew did not exist. In her place was a vile, wicked hearted witch who shared her image.

After two years, King Marillot summoned him back to Kiamo Ko to assist him in running the tribe. So Fiyero returned to Kiamo Ko, and buried himself in his work so that he had no time to think. He drank himself into a stupor on the nights that he could not sleep.

One year after that, King Marillot arranged a marriage for him, hoping that a wife would change things. They chose a girl from one of the caravansaries well known for the fertility of their womanfolk. Her name was Sarima, and she had dark long hair and curves that would drive most men crazy.

But Fiyero was not most men. He was someone who had lost his heart long ago. However, the Arjiki tribe's need for an heir did not care about how the prince felt. His father commanded and threatened. His mother persuaded and cajoled, until he finally gave in one day.

"Fine, I will go ahead with the wedding if that's what you want. But don't expect me to love her, because I won't. My job will be done once you have your heir."

His parents looked at each other. It was, to them, half a battle won. They expected Sarima to win him over after the wedding.

But one year passed, and there was no news of an heir. It was not Sarima's fault though. It was Fiyero's, because he could not bring himself to touch her, no matter how beautiful and alluring she was, no matter how servile and seductive she behaved. All his brain told him was that she was not Elphaba, she was not the woman that he had loved and lost.

Until last night.

He was in his room, drinking again. The decanter was almost empty and he was contemplating if he should go and get another bottle when Sarima came in. She wore a green flimsy emerald dress that clung onto her curves, and let her hair down, oiling it with something that let her dark brown hair glistered under the dim light. That dress left nothing to imagination, and would have driven any man wild. She kneeled down in front of him and removed the glass from his hand. She caressed his face gently, cooing his name.

But Fiyero was far too drunk to notice anything. He only saw one thing. The green.

And he crushed his lips onto hers, calling her Elphaba and pleading with her not to leave him again. Sarima did not leave. She returned his kisses, and then led him to their matrimonial bed, the bed that he had not slept on since their wedding.

Now it was morning, and he looked at the woman sleeping next to him and the memories of last night came back to him. Oz, he felt terrible, and it was not due to the hangover.

Getting out of the bed, he splashed his face with the cold water in the basin, changed, and went to his study. He did not want to be around when Sarima woke up. He did not want to face her. He did not want to tell her that last night was a mistake, that he had mistaken her for someone else.

He sat in his study, among his papers, trying to concentrate, but not being able to do so. He felt that he had betrayed Elphaba, and that thought gave him a pounding headache more painful than the one left by the alcohol that he had consumed the night before.

It was some time before he realised that someone was knocking at the door.

"Your Highness?"

Fiyero staggered to the door and opened it. One of the servants was outside.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, You Highness, but Marman has requested for a meeting. He is waiting in the pavilion in the garden," he said.

Fiyero muttered his thanks, and followed the servant to the corridor.

Marman was alone in the pavilion when Fiyero reached the garden.

"Good morning, Your Highness."

Fiyero noted the formality, but did not ask why.

"Marman," he greeted his father's valet.

"I had a surprise visitor this morning, Your Highness," Marman started. "Someone left a child at my front door."

Fiyero raised his eyebrow. "A baby?"

"A child. The mother left a note, saying that she wanted me to bring up the child."

"So go ahead."

"I thought that you would like to look at the boy, Fiyero."

Marman turned to the field, and it was only then that Fiyero noticed that there was a child in the distance, chasing butterflies under the bright sunshine. Marman whistled, and the child in the distance turned towards the sound. Marman waved him over and the child ran towards him. His laughter filled the air, as if running in the open space was the happiest thing to do in the whole world.

Fiyero's heart stopped when the boy reached them.

He was dressed in a well-starched shirt and pants that was obviously brand new. His hair was newly trimmed, and still wet from his most recent wash. Marman had obviously taken the pain to clean him up before bringing him over to Kiamo Ko. The child should be about four years old or more, but it was hard to tell, as he was very skinny and looked malnourished.

Fiyero had looked into the mirror enough times to know how he looked like, and he had also seen old photos of himself when he was a child. The boy was him. The same blue eyes, sharp nose and oval face. But the pronounced cheekbones and the raven black hair was not his. The boy smiled at Marman, all trusting and innocent, and then at him.

That smile.

Sweet Oz.

"Where is she?" he grabbed the child by the shoulders, shaking him. "Tell me!"

The trust in the boy's eyes turned to fear and he struggled. Fiyero released his grip, shocked at the force that he had used to shake the boy, and the boy quickly hid behind Marman, trembling with fear as he clung onto the older man's shirt.

"Fiyero, calm down, you're scaring him."

Fiyero looked at Marman, then at the child, and then ran out of the pavilion. He looked left and right, and then left again, as if if he looked hard enough, he would find the person that he was looking for. The person that he had been dreaming of every day for the past six years.

There was no one else in the garden as far as he could see.

"Where is she, Marman? Where is Elphaba?" he asked when he went back under the shelter.

Marman looked at Fiyero, at the haunted look in his eyes, at the eye bags that had accumulated over the years. He wondered if he had made a wrong choice in bringing the boy over. But what had been done could not be undone. The older man sighed and took out a piece of paper from his pocket. He passed it to the prince.

"I found this letter in his pocket," he explained.

_Dear Sir,_

_You don't have to know my name. We met a few years ago. You might not even remember that occasion. I understand that you are now in charge of a programme in Vinkus to house the children when their parents are working or hunting and to provide them with education. I have a boy here. His name is Liir. His father is not with him, and his mother no longer exists. I beseech you to accept this child and let him stay in the home. He is almost five, but he is deprived in almost every single way. It is my fault of course. I have thought that it does not matter, that it is alright as long as I try my best. Have I ever been more wrong in my life. It takes me five years to realise that I cannot keep him by my side pretending that he has everything when he has absolutely nothing, when he deserves so much more. I have not done anything good in the past few years. Every single thing that I have done was wrong, or brought grief to others, and my attempt to bring him up is no exception. He is too young to suffer with me, and to suffer for the mistakes that I have made. He is a bright child, and with the right education, he will be able to grow up to be a good man and contribute to the society. Please, have a heart, and take him in. You just need to provide him with the basic shelter, food and some form of education. He can run errands and work for you in return. Please take him in and I will be eternally grateful. _

Fiyero read and reread the letter. It was not signed, but he could recognise the handwriting anywhere. He remembered the same handwriting left on his notes when she tried to teach him, the same handwriting that she used to take down the points when the professors imparted their knowledge. The same handwriting on that short, little farewell note that he still kept in a locked box in the drawer in his study.

Marman kneeled down and said something haltingly to the boy in a dialect that was foreign to Fiyero, stroking the boy's hair as he pulled the boy out from behind him. The boy replied, fluent in that dialect, and then looked up at Fiyero.

"I have just told him that you are a good man, Fiyero, and that he should not be afraid of you. He only understands a dialect used by one of the Ugabu tribes. I suppose she … ", Marman paused, "I supposed Miss Thropp does not want him to blurt out anything that may put his life in danger if he is ever captured by anybody."

"She was in Ugabu all this while?" Fiyero did not believe it. Ugabu was just next to Vinkus, and she had been there all these years?

Marman shook his head. "I believe she was there only for a short period, enough for her to pick up the dialect. Liir," he patted the boy's shoulder, "mentioned that they did a lot of travelling, and they shifted from place to place once every few months. Him and Auntie Witch. I don't think he has an idea of their relationship."

Fiyero looked at the boy. Five years old Liir. He had a lot of catching up to do.

"I believe that you will want to learn the Ugabu dialect. I will make arrangements for a tutor to start your lessons as soon as possible," Marman added.

Fiyero looked up. "Yes, please, Marman. Please get this done as soon as possible. And a tutor for the boy please. He needs to know the common Ozian language, and so many other things."

Fiyero kneeled down and hugged his son, taking in the feeling of his flesh and blood in his arms. His son. The one that he never thought that he would ever meet. He hugged him for a long time, until he let go of the boy reluctantly. The boy looked back at him, and then reached out a hand and wiped the tear from his eyes. His eyes might be the same shade of blue as Fiyero's, but at that moment, Fiyero could have sworn that the boy had looked at him with the same tender expression that Elphaba used to. Fiyero held his face, stroking the soft cheeks and then his hair. Her hair. He had failed Elphaba, one way or another, but he was not going to fail their child.

He spoke to the boy in the common Ozian language, knowing fully well that the boy did not understand a single word but he hoped that his tone would convey the message.

"I'm your father, Liir, and you're coming to stay with me. Welcome home."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Elphaba stayed in the air and watched as the door finally opened. A man, older since she had last seen him, appeared with a light in his hand. She heard him exclaimed when he saw the boy at the door, dressed in clothes (the only set that he ever possessed) that offered not much protection in the chilly night. Marmon kneeled down and talked to the boy, first in the common Ozian language, and then in a few Vinkun dialects, but Liir just looked back blankly. It took Marman a few more tries before Liir replied in the only dialect that he knew. _

_Elphaba watched as Marman looked left and right to see if he could find the person who had left the child at his door, but he was unable to spot anyone. He would have spotted the witch with her long raven black hair and her dark dress that was fluttering in the breeze if he had looked up, but that did not occur to him. Marmon gave up trying after a while, and he wrapped his arm around Liir's shoulders and brought him into the house._

_Just as he was about to step over the ledge into the house, Liir looked back and up, where he knew she would be, as she had promised, and waved goodbye to Auntie Witch. She had told him that this man would take care of him much better than she ever could. That he would no longer have to starve, or sleep on a cold, hard floor or to shiver in the cold again. He bit his lips and stepped into his new life._

_Elphaba heaved a sigh of relief. Marman would take care of him. She knew he would. Liir would grow up with people who would care for him, and learnt his culture. It was a huge risk, putting him so close to Fiyero, but there was no other options that she could think of, no other people that she could trust. It was ironic, how the only person that she could entrust Liir to was a man whom she had only met once so many years ago._

_She looked towards the east. Dawn was still a far way off, but the return journey was long, and she wanted to reach her quarters before the sun rose. She turned her broom towards the direction of the place that she should call home, but at the last moment, turned slightly and headed for Kiamo Ko instead. _

_Just for a moment._

_She knew which of the balconies led to his bedroom. He had described it to her so many times before when they were in Shiz. She landed on the balcony without a sound, and with one swift move, switched the broom from between her legs to her right hand, where she could use it as a weapon if necessary. It was always good to be on alert at all times._

_The door leading to the bedroom was opened, the curtains billowing in the air. Elphaba went into the bedroom and slowly let her eyes adjusted to the dark. The room was masculine and Vinkun, all wood and dark and smelling distinctly Fiyero. In the middle of the room was a couch and coffee table, where a glass and a flask of liquor stood, still opened. The bed was furthest away from the balcony, against another pair of windows that was shut and the curtains closed. She took a step towards the bed, telling herself that she would just take a look at him, just one glance. She would not touch him. She would not kiss him. She just wanted one chance to look at his face again. She was not going to ask for more. _

_Another step, and her foot landed on something. Elphaba stooped slightly, but stopped just when her fingers were almost touching the item on the floor. She did not need to feel the fabric between her fingers to know what it was. It was a woman's dress. She could not see what colour it was in the dark, but she could smell the perfume that still lingered on it. A woman's dress, worn to seduce, and discarded during the throes of passion. Her breath caught as she turned towards the bed. Fiyero was sleeping on his bed, the blanket just reaching his waist. Next to him, a fair skinned arm curved at the crook of his neck, the owner of that arm resting her face on his chest, on those diamond tattoos that Elphaba had touched so many years ago, her naked body pressed against Fiyero's in a lover's embrace even when they were asleep._

_His lawfully wedded wife, of course. The woman who belonged to him and whom he belonged to. The one whom he had promised to the gods that he would love and cherish._

_Elphaba closed her eyes, but that did not stop her from seeing the images of Fiyero and Sarima together, his lips on hers, his hands pulling off her dress as he kissed her bare skin, their limbs tangled together as he explored her body and she called out his name._

'_No … ," Elphaba let out a soft cry as she kneeled onto the floor, her fingers covering her mouth. _

_Fiyero stirred on the bed._

_She stayed there for a moment as she let the sadness swept over her before she stood up again. Her eyes darted towards the bed as she bit her own lips. Fiyero stopped stirring and went into a deep slumber again. Steeling her heart, she spun on her boots and walked out into the balcony. She was in the air again in a heartbeat._

_She left Kiamo Ko and headed towards north, her tears blinding her vision as she chided herself for being foolish, for being a sentimental fool. What did she expect? That he would still pine for her after so many years? She shook her head to clear her thoughts. She had done her best in ensuring that Liir would be in good hands and now that it was done, her thoughts went to the newly sharpened knife in the cupboard in her quarters. She imagined how good it would feel if she pressed the cool blade against her skin, the sharp pain when the warm blood spilled out and coated her skin. All her sorrows would be washed away, and the Wicked Witch would be no more._

**A/N Like it? Please review =)**


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